Arching her back, she cried out as he thrust deep, seating his entire length completely within her. Her lids fluttered closed, and Luke growled—actually growled. One of his hands shot into her hair, dislodging the pins that held it confined in a knot. Tangling his fingers in the curls, he tugged her head back and demanded, “Look at me.”
Her eyelids felt weighted down, but she forced them open, staring into Luke’s harsh, hungry face. “I want to see you,” he whispered, using his hand to hike her hips a little higher, changing the angle so that he rubbed against her clit with even the slightest move. “I want you to see me.”
He pulled out tauntingly, teasingly slow. “I want you to feel me.”
Letting go of her hair, he laid his hand along her cheek and pushed his thumb into her mouth. Automatically, she opened for him and sucked on his flesh. “I want you to taste me,” he whispered, dipping to his head to kiss her neck. “I want to taste you.”
When he pulled out of her, Devon whimpered in protest, curling her hands around his biceps and trying to tug him back to her. As he lowered her to the floor, her skirt fell back into place. Luke sank to his knees in front of her, his gaze ravenous and intent. “Taste you,” he muttered again. But instead of pushing the skirt up, he reached for the row of tiny little buttons, starting at the bottom. There were probably twenty of them, marching up to the modest sweetheart neckline, and before he even got to the dress’s bodice, Devon was ready to tear it off.
She even went to grab the dress and pull it over her head, but he caught her hands and pressed them back down to her sides. “I’ve been out of my mind this past week, missing you, worrying about you . . . needing you,” he said, his voice rough as sandpaper, a sexy little rasp that sent shivers down her spine.
“Shit, I love this dress,” he muttered. “Earlier today, in your office, you were sitting there, wearing this pretty dress buttoned all the way up to your pretty neck, and I wanted to rip it off. All I could think about was getting you naked again, getting inside you.”
Her knees wobbled, and Devon had to lock them, otherwise she would have keeled over. Even so, she felt like she was melting, melting like wax that wanted to puddle and pool all around him. “So do it, already,” she said. He just smiled at her and kept on undoing the buttons, one at a time—slooooowwwly.
“I was tempted to do just that when you leaned back in your chair and crossed your legs. Your skirt fell open. If you’d moved just a little, I would have gone crazy. Just a little, and I could have seen paradise.” He reached the last button and then sat back on his heels, pushing the dress open. It parted, the sides falling open to frame her torso, hips, and legs. The bra she wore matched the panties he’d torn off, simple white cotton embroidered with little hearts, scalloped lace edging the cups. Devon squeezed her eyes shut as he stared at her, feeling so inadequate. Too skinny, too short, hardly the pretty, feminine type that threw themselves at Luke on a regular basis.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispered, leaning in and pressing his mouth to her pubis, then lower . . . lower . . . When he pressed his mouth against her and licked her, Devon thought that she’d die from the pleasure, right then.
Only his hands kept her from sagging to the floor, her knees all but useless and her legs too watery to support her weight. Bracing her hands against his shoulders, she locked her elbows and stared down at his bent head, watching as he licked, sucked, and stroked. Her face flamed red. Watching him like this, as he knelt between her thighs and tongued her, it was too hot, too intimate, too intense.
Wet, suckling noises filled the air, punctuated by her cries and his occasional grunt or groan of satisfaction. “You’re sweet . . . Yeah, you like that, don’t you . . . Devon . . . damn . . .” He caught her right leg and lifted it, draping it over his shoulder, and shifted his head just a little to the side. Then he sealed his mouth against her and pushed his tongue inside, circling around the entrance to her passage and then pulling back, settling into a rhythm that mimicked lovemaking.
He groaned against her again, and the vibration of it echoed through her, and she came, screaming out his name, fisting her hands in his hair, and holding his head steady as she rocked, wiggled, and squirmed against his oh-so-talented mouth. He worked her through the orgasm, and only after she sagged back against the wall, reeling and gasping for air, did he stand.
Their gazes locked, and he stripped his shirt away, kicked off his boots, then his jeans and underwear. When he came back to her, he was gloriously naked, a faint dusting of gold hair on his chest, his mouth red and swollen from her, and his eyes heavy-lidded. “Good enough to eat,” he muttered, slipping his fingers into his mouth and licking them.
Devon blushed hotly.
Luke laughed, dipped his head to kiss her shoulder. She still wore the dress, hanging open, but when she went to shrug it off, Luke caught it and held it in place. “I want to fuck you like this . . . wearing that dress open. That’s how you looked when I was fantasizing about you earlier.”
A grin curled her lips. “Really . . . what else happened in this fantasy?”
The wicked, teasing light faded from his eyes, and he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, Devon. Come here. I want to make love to you.”
Whether it was the challenge therein or her own curiosity, she didn’t know. Backing away from the hand he held out to her, she sidled down the wall and leaned back, tucking her hands behind her. Resting her head against the wall, she turned her head to stare at him. “I’m not fragile, Luke. I keep telling you that.”
“You might not be fragile, but that doesn’t mean you want to know about some of the things I want to do to you,” he said, his voice flat, shutting her out. He thought he was protecting her; Devon knew that.
But all it did was hurt her. She’d spent most of her life afraid of any kind of intimacy, and now that she’d finally found the courage—and the man—to have it with, he wanted to keep bits and pieces of himself locked away from her. “Not good enough,” she whispered. Staring at him, she straightened away from the wall and pulled the edges of her dress together. “You figured out my deep, dark secrets, Luke. You know almost everything there is to know about me, but I can’t say the same about you. I don’t figure this is meant to be a one-way relationship, Luke. It’s not fair.”
Brushing past him, she started to work on the buttons with hands that shook. Damn it, she wouldn’t be able to wear this dress again without thinking—
He tackled her, the weight of his body crashing into hers and sending her staggering. If he hadn’t grabbed her waist upon impact, she would have ended up on the ground. Instead, she ended up pressed face-first against the wall. “You want to know my deep, dark secrets,” Luke rasped, grabbing her skirt and shoving it up over her waist. He insinuated a knee between her thighs, forcing her to spread her legs.
She started to shake, his intensity bleeding over into her, yet in the back of her mind, fear danced. This was too dominating, too controlling, as he caught one of her wrists and brought it up, pinning it to the wall by her head. The other hand held her skirt out of the way as he pressed against her. He dipped his knees, aligning the thick head of his shaft with her dripping core, and then he pushed, forcing her softness to yield to his length. As he tunneled through her tight sheath, he caught her other wrist and pressed it to the wall. “You want to hear how I think about how much I’d like to push you down to your knees and make you take me in your mouth? You want to hear how I’ve thought about what it would be like bend you over and take you from behind . . . kind of like I’m doing now? I think about it—a lot. But I don’t want to scare you. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Then he swore. His body tensed, and she knew he was going to pull away. Her heart pounded in her throat, and the terror that was trying to edge in on her paled in comparison to the panic she felt as he started to pull back. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed, shoving her butt back against him, wiggling and squirming against the thick length invading her. His greater height made
it a challenge, but she finally found a rhythm that worked, riding him, clenching down around him, moaning when he jerked and throbbed inside her. “Don’t you pull away from me, Luke. I’m not fragile . . .”
For agonizing seconds, he remained still, his rigid length pulsing inside her, his body tense and unmoving, and then he pushed back into her, crowding her against the wall. Letting go of one wrist, he worked his hand between their bodies and tore her dress back open so that her bare torso was pressed into the wood. “I’ve thought about taking you just like this,” he whispered into her ear. “Listening to you scream, knowing that I can do damn near anything to you and make you love it. Tell me I can, Devon.”
His voice was a challenge, and she got the weirdest feeling that he wanted to find her limits, to find some line she didn’t want to cross. But Devon wasn’t sure that line existed, not with him.
If any other man grabbed her like this and held her restrained, she knew she would lose it. But Luke—he wouldn’t ever hurt her. In her gut, in her heart, in her soul, she knew it. And she trusted him. Craning her head around, she glanced at his shadowed face from the corner of her eye. “You can make me do anything, Luke. You can make me love it.”
“Fuck . . .” The word escaped him on a gasp. His hands tightened and then inexplicably gentled. Plundering and ravishing turned to soft, silken seduction. His lips brushed across her shoulder, a soothing caress that comforted every bit as much as it aroused. “And me, Devon? Could I make you love me?”
Her voice shook a little as she replied, “Luke, you’ve already done that.”
Any other words would have to wait until later. The time for speaking fell away as he stroked, and teased, and caressed her straight into the realm of paradise. His voice became a nonsensical rumble in her ear, and his hands brought her wrists down, his arms wrapping around her so that she embraced herself, and his arms enfolded all of her, holding her steady for his slow, gentle rhythm.
When they came, it was with a mingled groan, her head falling back onto his shoulder, his forward onto hers. It was possibly the most perfect moment in her entire life.
“DID you mean it?” he asked an hour later as they sat soaking in a hot, steaming tub of water. She sat with her back against his front, drowsy from the heat and the sex.
For a minute, his question didn’t register, and then she slid a nervous look at him over her shoulder. “We’ve only been going out for a while, Luke.”
That faint, knowing grin curved his lips, and he said, “That’s not what I asked. Did you mean it?”
Blushing to the roots of her hair, she swallowed, squirmed, and finally blurted out, “Would you mind if I did?”
His arms came through the soapy water to band around her waist, tugging her closer. “I’d mind it if you didn’t. I think I fell in love with you before I even knew you, before I even saw you,” he whispered, kissing her neck. “I feel like I’ve loved you my whole life, and I’ve just been waiting to find you.”
Tears stung her eyes. Wriggling away, she turned around and straddled his lap, not caring that the water sloshed on the floor, not caring that they didn’t really fit like this in the old-fashioned claw-foot tub. “Yeah, I meant it,” she said, leaning in to murmur the words against his lips. Then, a giddy smile on her lips, she said, “Never would have pegged you as the romantic type, Luke.”
“Hey, I can get plenty romantic.” Curving into her body, he rubbed his stubbled face against her neck. Devon squealed and arched away from him, wriggling back and giggling. She ended up with her knees wedged between his hips and the sides of the tub. Curling his arms around her waist, he tugged her close and rested his chin between her breasts, tilting his head back so he could stare at her. His voice went serious and soft as he murmured, “So, can you say it?”
Running a hand through his damp, disheveled hair, she smiled down at him. Something tender and soft moved through her heart as she met his gaze. “Yeah,” she murmured, touching a finger to his lower lip. “I can say it.” She replaced her finger with her mouth, kissing him gently, softly. Then, easing back, still keeping her lips pressed to his, she whispered, “I love you, Luke. I flat-out adore you.”
“I love you, Luke. I flat-out adore you.”
Two days later, her softly spoken words still sent a primitive, possessive thrill through him. In the still quiet of the night, hours before dawn, he lay in bed next to her, unable to sleep. Devon lay cuddled up against him, lost in dreams. Occasionally, she’d make a soft little sound caught between a gentle snore and a kittenish little purr. She muttered something in her sleep and wiggled, pressing her butt back against him.
He pressed his lips to her shoulder and smiled. Even sound asleep and wearing flannel pajamas, the woman managed to turn him on and turn him inside out.
It was the inside-out part that was keeping him awake, though. Damn near three weeks had passed since some sick bastard had broken into her house, but the cops were clueless. More infuriating, Luke was clueless. It was like a ghost had done it; no fingerprints were left, no trail, no sign that anybody was following her or watching her. Luke was good, but shit, he couldn’t track a ghost.
It was the complete lack of a trail that had him really worried. Some punk kid couldn’t do that, no matter how smart the kid was. Coming and going without a sign was a mark of practice. The vicious nature behind killing a pet was even more telling. Professional thieves could come and go without a sign, but thieves generally weren’t violent.
Devon rolled onto her belly and sighed, turning her face toward him. The faint moonlight streaming in through the window cast a silvery sheen to her delicate features and darkened her hair to near black. She looked defenseless, vulnerable.
Luke knew better. The woman had a fighter’s heart. And a fighter’s stubborn nature. She had an idea who her stalker was—he’d finally managed to pry that much out of her—but she wouldn’t tell him who.
“You’ll go all postal, Luke, and I won’t have it. I’ll talk to Detective White. She can handle it.”
Postal. Yeah, that pretty much described it. She’d finally broken down and called Detective White about her suspicions, but she hadn’t done it while he was in the room, and she flat-out refused to tell him.
Hell. That was fine. He’d figure it out himself. He waited until he knew she wasn’t on the verge of waking up, and then he slid out of bed. On the way out of the room, he grabbed his jeans from the foot of the bed and pulled them on. He zipped them but didn’t mess with the button as he headed downstairs.
Ever since the break-in, Luke had been existing mostly on combat naps. He was used to functioning on scant amounts of sleep, but not for weeks on end. Plus he was a hell of a lot older than he had been back when he’d still been with the Rangers. He was dog-tired, and some caffeine would be seriously great at the moment, but if he started coffee, Devon would wake up.
And then he’d have a hard time explaining why he was reading her e-mails. Figuring out the password for her work account shouldn’t be too hard. Luke had held off on invading her privacy like this, but since the woman was being stubborn as a mule, he’d decided to hell with it. It was either go through her e-mails or sneak into Social Services after hours. He could do either one, but reading the e-mails was less risky.
Making do with a Diet Coke from the fridge, he settled down in her office and went about trying to figure out her password. He got it on the third try, and started going through her e-mails. Most of them were reminders about court dates, psychiatric counseling for her clients, that sort of thing. Some came directly from child advocate lawyers, and there was one name that seemed to pop up quite a bit over the past few weeks. He did a search and found mentions of the boy going back a good four months.
A lot of e-mails regarding him, though, over the past couple of weeks. Most of the e-mails were from a child advocate who was working to have the child permanently removed from the father’s care on suspicions of abuse.
There was one that had been forwarded from a
cop. A background check on the boy’s dad, complete with pictures.
It took Luke less than fifteen seconds to figure out that this was the dad Devon suspected, and even less time to figure out why.
He had empty eyes. He managed to hide it pretty well with a friendly, open smile, but that smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Luke continued skimming the guy’s history, grimacing when he read about the wife’s death, her arrest on suspicion of child abuse, the abrupt name change, and sudden relocation to a different state. But it wasn’t until he got to the guy’s earlier history that alarm bells really started to go off.
A marine. Commendations in Desert Storm. The information in the background check was sketchy, but that sparse information told Luke a hell of a lot. Eyes narrowed, he got his own laptop and got online, going to a different website, another government site and one he technically wasn’t supposed to access anymore.
But the technicalities weren’t going to keep him out, and neither was an outdated password.
Getting into that website took a little more finessing, but he was inside in under five minutes and reading classified information on one Staff Sergeant Curtis H. Waller.
“Son of a bitch,” he swore. He tried to go a little deeper, but a message came up, blocking him from accessing more information. Hunkering over the keyboard, Luke pounded the keys and tried to go around or under the block, all with no luck.
A warning came up, and he shoved back from the desk and broke the connection with the website. The DOD could figure out who he was easy enough, but right now, none of them would throw too big a fit. If he tried to go deeper, though, people would get temperamental. Luke didn’t have the kind of equipment he’d need if he wanted to get a little deeper without being tracked, and that was just fine.
Luke didn’t need to get to that hidden information to figure out that most of the guy’s service history was classified. That, in and of itself, wasn’t disturbing. But combined with the lack of soul he’d glimpsed in the man’s eyes, it got plenty disturbing.
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